


Through the Bones of this World

by Flammenkobold



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Creepy Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Monsters, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 20:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13748658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flammenkobold/pseuds/Flammenkobold
Summary: Jonathan wakes up before the alarm clock and before Tim. He uses the time to watch. Heed the tags.Day 2 of the Pairing Week





	Through the Bones of this World

Jonathan wakes up before the alarm clock and before Tim. Neither is a rare occurrence, but usually it’s because of the dreams he keeps having. Dreams of a woman without a face begging for his help, dreams of a shade that he knows to be Martin but can’t reach, Melanie with blood dripping from her eyes and ears and mouth, and sometimes the dreams of a sly smile in the dark that tells him he won’t turn into a monster, _don’t worry, John_. This time there were no nightmares.

There is a bit of sunlight streaming through the otherwise closed curtain and it lands on Tim’s hair. John allows himself to watch for a while, to observe, to memorise. Tim’s receding hairline, the crow’s feet around his eyes and the deepening lines around his mouth that make it look harder than it feels on his skin. They stopped deepening the day Tim finally stopped struggling altogether. He’s tempted to reach out and trace those lines, sear them into his memory by touch as well as sight. Tim looks peaceful like this, so he musters enough control to keep his hands lying at his side. Instead he just watches for a bit.

But it's enough to wake Tim up slowly eventually. He mutters something and turns his face into the pillow, peeking at John through half-opened eyes. It’s enough for Jonathan to finally allow himself to reach out and let his fingertips ghost over the corner of Tim’s mouth as it twitches up into a smile.

“Like what you see?” he asks, voice still scratchy from sleep.

“Yes,” he answers simply. A lifetime ago he would’ve bristled under the question or shakily laughed it off. But he likes what he sees, likes this form of observing best. Tim knows anyway.

John runs his hands over Tim’s bare arms and torso, tracing the scars that adorn him. The sunken lines from Jane Prentiss attack, the raised, faded red marks from an attack by the Lightless Flame, the small cut on his hand from when he and Martin fled into Michael’s tunnels, the jagged scar near his collarbone where Daisy’s knife had caught him. If he looks hard enough he can see the other ones too, the criss-crossed lines seared into Tim like a spider’s web, where he tried to tear himself out, the damage to his lungs from too little air, the white spots left by too dark water.

They are not a mirror to his own scars, but they match in all the right places.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Tim asks him, still looking at him sleepy and amused. His eyes, though, are oddly focused behind his half-lidded eyes.

John snorts. “You can have them for free,” he says and lifts himself up enough to straddle Tim’s hips, pressing his hands above Tim’s heart. It’s not like Tim doesn’t already know them, not when he looks at him like this. They match each other after all.

It’s not something that Tim would have chosen, he thinks.

“Not something you would’ve either, I guess,” Tim answers.

Except, once upon a time, he did chose Tim, asked him to follow him into the Archives of the Magnus Institute. Back when he was young, foolish and knew so, so little. The both of them then.

Tim reaches up and winds his hand into John’s hair. “And I did chose to follow you.”

Not wanting then, he thinks and remembers something Elias said to him a lifetime ago. _You never wanted this, no, but I'm afraid you absolutely did chose it._

Tim lets out a laugh and pulls John’s head down so their noses almost touch. “God, he always was such a bloody wanker who didn’t understand anything,” he says and steals a laugh from John.

“Tim,” he finally says out loud, tries for annoyed and lands short of entirely too fond.

“I don’t think it’s about wanting or chosing,” Tim whispers against his cheek, his lips brushing gently over his skin. “It’s about what you have. And you have me for better or worse.”

John leans back as far as Tim allows him to. “Is this you asking me to marry you?” If there is incredulity seeping into his voice, he can’t help it. Neither can he help the edge that seeps into his question. It does nothing, but Tim’s eyes glitter in the early morning sun. He looks at Jonathan with a look in his eyes that makes even Jonathan want to hide. It’s not the way Elias had looked at him, like he was a delicate weapon to be used, a knife to be honed, a baby bird to be pushed out of the nest to learn how to fly. It’s not how Jude Perry used to look at Agnes, all devotion and desire. Or how Jane looked at her wasp's nest with fear and fascination, enthralled by its song. It’s something in its own right. Something heavy and binding, that lets him know the entire world could burn and he’d watch it all without remorse, if he can keep this.

“Are you accepting, Archivist?” Tim asks in return. He feels the consequences of his answer thrumming in the air and knows that their union will not require any official or minister to be present. He doesn’t answer in any form for a long time. “John?” Tim finally says and this is what pushes him over the edge.

He leans down and seals his answer with a kiss, swallows the gasp that escapes Tim’s lips. Yes, he thinks, yes. “Yes,” he whispers between kisses.

This, he knows, is not something the others understood. This is how it should be. Under him he feels Tim’s heartbeat, strong and sure, running through himself too, running through the cracks of the world and the bones of the dusty old house that serves as a shell and protection for their statements. He feels the unblinking gaze of their Master settle on them.

Watching, dissecting, satisfied.

**Author's Note:**

> The fic is set in the future. Yes everyone else is dead. Yes these two have become monsters somewhere along the way. Yes Tim his head of the institute.


End file.
